


Pulling Pigtails

by Chosenfire



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Boarding School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chosenfire/pseuds/Chosenfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames pulls Arthur's metaphorical pigtails trying to get his attention, Arthur fights back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Pigtails

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the i_reversebang challenge on Livejournal for froggie's amazing boarding school art (http://i.imgur.com/0rGSE.jpg). Thank you to bauble for betaing this - any mistakes left are my own - and sorrynotsorry for holding my hand through this and helping me find the breakthrough I needed to write.

Knox Academy was set just outside of New York City, where there were green hills and plenty of trees. It gave the appearance of living in the country and was a big selling point in the brochures. There were several places to go during lunch. Some students took it in their rooms; some actually ate in the dining hall, most though, when the weather allowed chose to go outside.

Arthur had chosen to skip lunch for the day. He would make up for it at dinner, and had instead settled under the large tree he had discovered his freshman year. It was a sturdy support against his back and on days like this he could usually catch up on any reading he was behind on.

Expect this day he had company that was making that impossible.

"Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn't revolve around you and there are actually people in it who don't want you hanging around them every minute of every fucking day," Arthur gritted out, the pencil in his hand held so tightly that it almost snapped. He couldn't concentrate on the words of the book open in front of him thanks to the other boy beside him, Eames, the bane of his existence. Rumor had it that another boarding school in Britain had kicked him out and sent him to Arthur's hemisphere.

Arthur hadn't liked Eames from the start, and had done a poor job of hiding that fact. Where Arthur took school seriously, Eames seemed to view it as one large joke. He wasted class time holding court and interrupting what could be an important lesson on the material they needed to cover. Worst of all, most of the professors were so charmed that they let him.

He'd also stuck to Arthur like glue the day since the day they met, and Arthur hadn't been able to shake him since. A part of Arthur whispered he hadn't tried hard enough, but Arthur did his best to ignore that part.

"Darling, you say that sweetest things. Truly, I am flattered." Eames sprawled beside him on the grass, where Arthur had been trying to get away from him. Because it wasn't bad enough that Eames whispered things to him in class, no, he had to follow Arthur between classes in order to annoy him.

Arthur saw Dominic Cobb stand up at the table with Mal and Saito, and Arthur shook his head; he could handle Eames himself and he didn’t need Cobb to come to his rescue. Besides, Dom had just made up with Mal and Arthur didn’t want to get in the way of that.

Arthur liked it when the few friends he did had talked to each other and this was between him and Eames.

“So, tell me, dearest, how does your week go? Do you have any plans for the upcoming dance?” Eames had a book open on his knee, not even bothering to read it. His tie was loosened and his sleeves rolled up to his forearm to show off what Arthur had noticed before as some kind of tribal tattoo. Not that he went out of his way to look it, it was just that not that many people had tattoos in high school.

“It was going well until you sat down beside me. And no, I’m not going,” Arthur muttered, trying to focus on the words on the page. He hated Macbeth; while he appreciated the violence, he would have preferred something more advanced for his literature class. It was also probably the wrong thing to read when you were trying to hold on to your temper.

“Yes, must have been fascinating what the apparent lack of any excitement you engage in. Tell me, Arthur, have you ever let loose in your life?”

"I fucking swear, Eames, go mess with someone else." Arthur couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice, because really, any other day he could handle it. He'd put up with it Eames’ constant attention all year and sometimes he'd even enjoyed it because not many people would go as far as Eames had, would be as relentless and at times even a welcome distraction.

This was not one of those times.

"I enjoy being by you, love. I wouldn't think of imposing myself on anyone else."

The pencil Arthur had been holding snapped, and Arthur barely noted the look of surprise on Eames face before he launched himself at Eames.

Eames wasn't a lightweight, he played soccer, which he insisted to anyone who would listen was called football, and he was a mass of muscle most people wouldn't think of trying to hit. Arthur wasn't exactly on the large side but he had his share of muscle under his sweater vests, and 3 years of mixed martial arts training by his uncle during the summers had left him with a cautious confidence when it came to fighting.

Not that he ever did, because Arthur didn't fight; that kind of thing lead to attention from the Dean that he could ill afford and marred his otherwise perfect record. He was at the school on a full scholarship and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

So really, it went against everything he had worked on for in the past few years when he straddled Eames and punched him the face.

Eames grunted, and then started giving as good as he got. Proving the muscles weren't just for show,he bucked up and locked his arms around Arthur, flipping them over so he was the one on top holding Arthur against the grass a and making his shoulders ache. Arthur, however, didn't like this change in position and wiggled his way out from under him, breathing heavily as he tried to elbow Eames in the face.

They scrabbled on the ground violently for a few minutes, each trying to get a hit in and breathing hard, unaware of the crowd forming around them. Eames was laughing, his smile almost manic, and Arthur pushed down the insane urge to return the smile, his heart beating wildly as he pushed Eames away.

"Seriously, what in the fuck is your problem?" Arthur spat, furiously dragging a hand through his now messy hair, trying to smooth it back down.

Eames just collapsed back against the ground across from Arthur, smiling widely. There was blood on his lip and a cut on his cheek, a faint bruise blossoming under it. Arthur could fell the dull ache in his shoulder,his knuckles burned, and his ribs felt bruised from where Eames had wrapped his arms around them.

"Why would you ask me that? You're the one that struck first. If I'd known you'd be this lovely when aggravated I would have pushed you much harder earlier." And there was something in Eames eyes Arthur couldn't pin down, something he wasn't sure he wanted to. But he couldn't stop himself and pushed back.

"Why won't you leave me the hell alone?" and he tried to calm him voice, he really did. Because people were around and no one had ever ruffled Arthur the way Eames had.

"Christ, you are really a lot denser then I gave you credit for.Haven't figured it out, yet?" Eames asked, moving to stand up. Arthur stayed sprawled on the ground, trying to control his breathing as Eames loomed above him. His voice softened so only Arthur could hear, “Darling, I’ve been pulling your pigtails.” Seeing Arthur’s confused look, Eames grinned and elaborated, “I fancy you.”

“Boys, why am I not surprised to see you two at the middle of this?” Professor Dixon made her way through the crowd before Arthur could say anything, before Eames' words could sink in. He felt a dread building, dread that was rewarded by the Professor's next words. “Follow me. We’re going to pay a visit to the Dean and go over the policy regarding fighting on campus.” Of course it was Dixon that caught them, Dixon who had had it in for Arthur ever since he told her that her answer key was wrong, in front of the entire class.

Shoulders hunching, Arthur picked up his forgotten book, shoved it into his bag, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He ignored the nervous look Eames was giving him as he feel into step behind Dixon.

 

~~~

The Dean wasn’t in, and Arthur and Eames were instructed to wait on the bench outside her office after a visit to the nurse. The visit was done in silence, the nurse looking at them disapprovingly as she stuck a band aid on Eames’ cheek and brushed a cotton swab over Arthur’s knuckles.

“Fighting again?” the nurse asked Eames, sounding amused. He gave her a charming smile.

“Your know me, Charlotte, can’t keep my hands to myself. Especially in the case of that one over there.” He raised his eyebrows in Arthur’s direction and Arthur glared at him.

Nurse Andrews just gave him a soft smile and shook her head. “You’ll never get anywhere if you keep acting this way, and I am tired of seeing you in my office.”

Arthur ignored the looks Eames was giving him, and when they were released walked back to the bench to sit and wait, hands clammy.

"Arthur..." Eames started the second they sat down.

Arthur interrupted him, "Can we just not right now? Okay?" His shoulders ached and there was tightness in his chest he couldn't shake. He knew the rules of the school almost by heart. Most schools didn't allow fighting, and Knox is particular looked down it. The school prided itself on turning out well behaved individuals and Arthur didn't trust Dixon not to tack something else on to whatever the Dean was going to be told.

It didn't help that he had been fighting with Eames. Because Dixon was right when he said it wasn't a surprise for it to be the two of them, they had been reprimanded by professors before; nothing had ever been passed along to the Dean though.

Arthur knew this probably wouldn't affect his scholarship, his grades were impeccable after all, but he was worried about this going on his permanent record.

"I tell you I fancy you and you go all stiff upper lip. My ego is wounded a bit but I can take the hint." and Eames looked like he was actually hurt.

Not wanting a repeat of what had happened on the lawn Arthur bit out, "Not everything is about you, okay!" He tried to keep his voice down. "I'm here on scholarship, which isn't something you can possibly understand because your parents are richer than god. My mom already works two jobs and if I mess this up, she can't afford to send me to college." Arthur turned towards him, getting more worked up by the minute. "And for another thing, if you like someone you don't fuck with them until they punch you. Normal people just tell them they like them."

Eames lips quirked up. "Noted. In my defense, you are a very hard man to have a conversation with. You are wound rather tightly and while I dearly love that stick in your arse I knew no other way of getting your attention." He gave Arthur a sad smile. "Also, I never meant for it to happen this way. I wasn't aware you'd actually punch me, and I would never do anything to endanger your future." Changing topics with an impish smile Eames asked "So does this mean you'll go to the rather boring dance coming up next week?"

Arthur was torn between laughing and crying right now, both of which would have been in a hysterical manner, and shook his head. "That's if I am even allowed to go, you do know we're waiting outside the Dean's office. Sometimes there are actual consequences to a person’s actions. Foreign concept to you, I know."

"A little slap on the wrist at most. Maggie will probably be miffed but won't do anything too serious. She rarely does when I'm involved." The last part was said with a self-deprecating smile.

And really, Eames calling the esteemed Dean Margaret Williams “Maggie” shouldn't have been a surprise. "You are completely insane, you know that? You might be able to afford getting in trouble but some people actually need to and want to keep their records clean. Some people can't parade around, fucking things up because mommy and daddy can take care of it."

Eames smile was tight. "Be that as it may, I can almost certainly assure you you have nothing to worry about."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I really wish that was true." Noticing the mud stains on his arms, Arthur got up, mumbling without looking at Eames, "I'm going to clean up real quick.”

He headed towards the boys bathroom at the end of the corridor, and only a moment later heard Eames' footsteps behind him, following him.

Arthur headed straight towards the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on his face. There weren't any cuts, only a slight bruise on his neck from where Eames had accidentally hit him, and it was an accident. Arthur had been wailing on him, while Eames had been trying to hold him down.

Arthur splashed some more water on his face, grabbing a paper napkin to scrub at the dirt on his cheek. He moved onto washing his hands, making sure to wipe away any of the dirt he found there till the skin was pink and tender. There was nothing he could do about the grass stains on his shirt; he wasn't a Boy Scout and wasn't prepared for things like that. So he rolled up his sleeves, cuffing them as nearly as he could on his forearm.

That would have to do.

Some things Arthur was prepared for though, and he grabbed the comb out of the front pocket of his bag before turning the faucet back on. He wet the comb and slicked his hair back. It wasn't as neat as it had been before, but it was better than nothing.

Packing his stuff up and taking a deep breath, Arthur studied his reflection in the mirror. He searched for anything that indicated he would actually start a fight, something so far removed from the person he tried to be.

All of this was because Eames _liked_ him. Of course he wouldn't have thought the Eames would resort to childish tactics, no one even did that anymore. Unless they were Eames and their way of saying "I like you" involved practically stalking a person and trying to pass them notes in class, and waiting at their locker, and sitting by them at lunch at every opportunity.

Okay, so Arthur could be pretty dense.

It was finals week, he wasn't going on that much sleep and they didn't exactly hang out in the same crowds and honestly Arthur had never thought Eames swung that way.

Sure, Arthur had entertained the idea when the guy had first transferred in. He had an accent and Arthur, despite his protests, wasn't above finding that attractive, along with the muscles, and tattoos. But Eames never really dated and while it was no secret Arthur was gay, he didn't date either. It was just one more thing he really never had time for.

“You really don’t think much of me, do you?” Eames asked softly. Arthur met his eyes in the mirror, Eames standing behind him, his uniform wrinkled and dirt staining the white undershirt.

“I don’t really know you, and it’s not like you know me that well,” Arthur confessed, and he didn’t, had never really bothered to. He was comfortable with his life, he had his friends, he had the top grades in the school. It was everything he had worked for.

Arthur ignored that hollow feeling in his chest that told him it wasn't enough.

"I know you study more than you need to and are absolutely brilliant. And while you put on a show of being a cold hearted bastard, your friends still like you. Leaving me to believe they see through your bullshit. While you can charge for tutoring like other less intelligent individulas do you do it for free. Shall I go on?" Eames inquired.

"No, that's quite some insight," Arthur choked out.

"Now let’s see if I can get this right," Eames continued and the self depricating tone was back "You see me as some spoiled rich boy with an accent, someone who frequently gets kicked out of some of the fineist teaching establishments, and whose mother and father had to cart him off to the only place that would accept him. Words you would use for me: cocky, show off, not very bright." There was bitterness in Eames voice, as if he was used to hearing those things. "How'd I do this time?"

"Surprisingly accurate," Arthur turned to face him. "I do think you're cocky, you do show off, you can't deny you're well off and the accent is kind of a given. I don't think you're an idiot, your grades are poor but that’s because you don't apply yourself. I assist Professor Jones and your test scores are exceptional. I think you’re more complicated then you give yourself credit for, Eames." Arthur finished adding "and I'm sorry I never took the time to talk to you."

Eames grinned, the smile real and infectious. "Well, aren't you full of surprises. And you honestly didn't know I liked you?"

"I had no idea. Really, I just thought you were being an asshole." Arthur grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands, leaning around Eames to throw it in the trash. "We should get back now, wouldn't want to keep Maggie waiting."

"Oh I don't know," Eames crowded him back to the sinks. "I very much don't mind spending a bit more time in here, you still haven't told me yes to dancing merrily come this Friday night."

"You're assuming I'll say yes."

"Oh, you've already said yes." Eames pinned Arthur's hips against the sinks counter his hands on either side of him and leaned in close his lips brushing Arthur's ear "You need to relax a bit love, enjoy life a little, do something dangerous." He surrounded Arthur and Arthur bit back a groan his throat suddenly going dry because it hadn't actually hit him how big Eames was. "Take the opportunity to _talk_ to me." Eames suggested.

"This is really not the place for that." Arthur forced out, unable to push Eames away. Eames laughed in his ear.

"Would you prefer I deflower you after the dance? Bit of American cliché, but the classics are treasured for a reason." His hands cupped Arthur's jaw holding his head still and he kissed him, hard, biting at Arthur's bottom lip until he opened his mouth.

"Shut up, Eames." Arthur rolled his eyes, leaning into him. "What makes you think I'll put out before the first date?"

"Less thinking, more hoping." and there was hope in Eames eyes. Hope and happiness and Arthur couldn't stop himself from smiling, reluctantly putting some distance between him and Eames.

"The Dean is expecting us," he said regretfully.

Settling an arm around Arthur's shoulders, Eames sighed dramatically something in his eyes lighting. "We'd best not disappoint her then."


End file.
